


Old Fashioned

by redandwhiteroses



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28820451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandwhiteroses/pseuds/redandwhiteroses
Summary: Usually, all you are is a glorified secretary for the Statesmen. However, things change when you’re sent to be a honey trap. Your teacher is none other than Agent Whiskey.ORFive times Agent Whiskey taught you to seduce someone, and one time you seduced him.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 104





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me, and I couldn't not write it!

1.  
“With all due respect, sir.” You smile. “Putting Gin and Vermouth on that type of mission isn’t the best idea.”

“And why is that?” Champagne drawls, leaning back.

“Well, Gin did sleep with Vermouth’s girlfriend.” You gently remind him. “I would put Vermouth with Ginger Ale on this one, sir.”

Champagne stares at you for what feels like the longest time. Eventually, he sighs and waves you away. “Alright, Bartender. Make the changes and then see if you can’t flag down Whiskey for me.”

You nod and step out of the room, padding over to your desk. The codename The Bartender was misleading. One would think that it entailed being, well, important. Instead, Bartender was essentially a glorified secretary. You kept everything nice and neat while Champagne and all of his agents got to go on top secret missions. You weren’t bitter; it wasn’t like you had been promised a new and exciting life or anything like that! It wasn’t like you had done the training to become an official agent or anything. No, nothing like that at all. You sigh and begin working on the revised partnerships for this set of missions. No sense in getting yourself worked up over this today. You need to save your energy for other things.

A rap on your desk causes you to stop. You look up to see Agent Whiskey. He smiles at you, and you can’t help smiling back.

“Mornin’, Darling.” He greets you, tipping his hat. You love the way the nickname rolls off his tongue, but you’d never let him know that. 

“Good morning, Agent Whiskey.” You respond. “I was actually about to go looking for you. Champagne wants to see you.”

“I heard.” He drawls. He doesn’t go in, instead opting to linger by your desk. “How come I never see you down at the bar? Pretty little thing like yourself shouldn’t be stuck up here all day working.”

“If I had a choice, I wouldn’t stay up here all day.” You fight the urge to duck your head down with snark. You wave him away. “Shoo fly. Go find some honey that your tricks will work on.”

“But what if the honey I want is right here?” He leans towards you with a grin. You scoff.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m vinegar, not honey.” You try to keep yourself from laughing. “Go into your meeting. I don’t want either of us getting into trouble.”

“You’re right. You’re not honey. You’re straight sugar.” He straightens up and fiddles with his cufflinks for a second. You roll your eyes. You don’t need to tell him that’s bad, even for him. He tips his hat again before sauntering into Champagne’s office. You wait until you hear the two men talking before letting your head hit your desk.

Why you let that man get under your skin, you have no idea. He’s lucky he’s charming.

You get the new assignments together and sent out while Champagne and Whiskey talk. That’s one less thing to worry about, which you’re grateful for today. You begin culling through some of the paperwork on your desk. All of it needs to be processed and filed, the sooner the better. Most of them are due about the same time. You pull out the ones due the soonest and then the easier to process ones. Obviously, the ones with closer deadlines needed to be done first. After that, you processed the ones with the least amount of paperwork sooner. You could get through more reports that way.

The door opens. You look up from your work, fully expecting Whiskey to be standing at the corner of your desk again. Instead, he’s leaning in the doorway of Champagne’s office with the slyest grin on his face.

“Boss wants to see you.” The way he says it throws you off. You aren’t sure what about it makes you a little cautious. You stand up, smooth out your pencil skirt, and walk into Champagne’s office. Whiskey moves to let you through. He moves just enough that you don’t actually touch him when you walk past him, but you still feel the heat coming off of him. You clear your throat once you’re inside the office.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You clasp your hands behind your back. Champagne looks to you.

“You were trained as a field agent, yes?”

“I was, yes.”

“And you’ve kept up with the necessities?”

“Yes sir.” You’re beginning to wonder where this conversation is headed. He smiles at you.

“Good. I have a job for you.” He leans forward. “We need a honey trap for Christopher Avington.”

You blink. “I’m sorry, sir, but this sounds like a job for Agent Chardonnay.”

“No, it’s a job for you. You’re exactly this guy’s type.” 

“But sir, I wouldn’t know the first place to start. That’s not exactly my area of expertise.”

“That’s where I come in.” Whiskey’s southern drawl makes you turn around to look at him. He looks as pleased as he can be. “I’ll be teachin’ you.”

You look at him. You look to Champagne. You aren’t sure if it’s an incredulous look or a pleading one. He merely inclines his head.

“I’ll have Simon pick up whatever you don’t get done.” He says. It’s clear that you’re being dismissed. You nod and take your leave. Whiskey seems even closer somehow when you pass him, despite the fact he hasn’t moved an inch. He follows you through and closes the doors behind him. You wait until you hear the door shut to turn to him.

“I can’t do this.” You tell him He looks at you with a mock offended look.

“I can’t be that bad.”

“No, it’s not you. It’s me.” You have to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing. “I can’t do flirty on my best days. I sure as hell can’t be seductive. I literally can’t even recognize if someone is flirting with me until months after.”

“What do you call what we just did early? Before I went in?”

“Banter?” You offer, raising an eyebrow. Whiskey looks at you for a minute before scoffing. 

“For someone so smart, you sure can be dense sometimes.” The way he says it lets you know that he doesn’t truly mean the last part. “Come on. Let’s find somewhere more comfortable to talk.”

**********************************************************************************************************

The two of you end up at a local bar. It’s one that a lot of the Statesmen frequent. The best way to describe it is as if someone took the country themed bar from their college town but cleaned it up and made it chic to appeal to businessmen who might want to relive their youth. It’s one of those places that does rural chic. Most everything is made of real wood, but the wood has been stained and painted to the point where it wouldn’t look out of place in a boardroom.

Jack picks out a booth towards the back where he can see everything. You sit across from him, a drink in hand. You have the feeling you might need a drink to get through this.

“Huh.” Jack looks at your drink. The mint leaves floating in the slightly brown liquid give away what it is. “I expected you to be more of a fruity drink type of gal.”

“What can I say?” You take a sip of your mint julep to try and calm your nerves. “I like bourbon.”

“Don’t you mean whiskey?” He teases. He takes a shot of his own drink. You pause for dramatic effect before shaking your head.

“Nah, bourbon. Whiskey isn’t strong enough for me.” Jack’s face is priceless. He makes a strangled noise that sounds close to a laugh before coughing hard. Silently, you curse yourself. If you hadn’t drawn out the pause for so long, you might have been able to get him to spit his drink out. You grin into your drink.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re issuing me a challenge.” He counters, raising an eyebrow.

“I have no idea what you mean by that.” He gives you an unconvinced look that makes you hide your smile with your hand.

“Mhhmm.” He looks at you for a minute. “So. I need to know what exactly I’m workin’ with here.”

“I told you, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Surely there’s something you’ve picked up from a friend or someone. I refuse to believe that a lovely thing like you doesn’t know how to flirt at all.”

“Well, I don’t.” You huff, leaning back. “If you haven’t noticed, reading people isn’t exactly my forte.”

“I do not believe that for a second.” He gives you a serious look from under the brim of his Stetson. “Even if it’s something you picked up in high school, you have got to know something.”

“Jack, I didn’t have my first boyfriend until a week before I graduated high school..” You counter. He raises an eyebrow.

“You gotta quit lyin’ to me. I do not believe that at all.” You shrug.

“Believe it or don’t. It’s the truth.” You look away. The conversation was civil, and Jack was being more than nice, but something about it was bringing up old insecurities. You huff. “I might know like... one or two things?”

“Show me.” His tone causes a pleasant shiver to run up your spine. You bite your lower lip.

“Okay. Don’t laugh at me. I don’t really do this all that much.” You warn him. You take your hair down as you speak. You offer him a shy smile once it’s down. “I had a friend tell me about this trick,” You push your hair behind your ear as you speak, softening your voice and giving it an almost breathy quality, “and she said that it works really well if I’m close to them so I can lean in a little sometimes.” You curl one strand lightly around your finger, leaning forward as you do so. “I guess if they say something funny, I’m supposed to touch them or something like that.”   
You look at Jack, trying your best not to pout. The sexy pout always looked ridiculous on you. He’s watching you with rapt attention. To your surprise, he’s leaned forward a little bit himself. You sit back suddenly, all traces of flirtiness gone. “That’s it. That’s all I know.”

“I think we can work with that.” God. He’s got to stop talking in that tone. It makes you think that maybe he does want you. You just assume that he flirts with you because he flirts with, well, everybody almost, but that tone. Something about it makes you think that he means it. You take a long sip of your drink, your gaze going anywhere but him.

“Okay, we’re going to talk like we normally do, and I want you to run it again. Okay? Can you do that for me, sugar?”

“Yeah, I think I can.” You smile. You try to keep eye contact with him. That was the first step. You think.

“So.” He begins conversationally, placing his forearms on the table. He clasps his hands and leans in a little bit as he does so. “I’m going to tell you a story to start out. Just so you get a sense of timing.” 

He starts in on his story. You listen to him with rapt attention. You see his eyes sweep over you, so you push a strand of your hair back. He smiles ever-so-slightly. He looks you in the eyes as he speaks. You look away shyly. You have to force yourself to look back at him, reminding yourself it’s just an exercise. He nods his approval. A beat in the story, so you play with the strand of hair you pushed back. It’s so hard to focus with how intently he’s looking at you. As the story goes on, you find that your actions become more fluid. It doesn’t feel forced or awkward when you lightly slap his upper arm when he makes you laugh. You don’t feel weird when you look away quickly as if he caught you staring, only to look back again not seconds later. Hell, you even find yourself leaning more towards him of your own accord.

He gives you notes, and you run it through again. It’s about the third time you’ve run it, each time becoming more fluid, when he stops you.

“You gotta stop biting your lip, sweetheart.” You look at him, panicked.

“Why? Am I doing it wrong?” He chuckles and shakes his head.

“No, that’s not it. It just makes me want to kiss you is all.” Jack states it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You duck your head down. You don’t know what to say, truth be told. He moves, placing a finger under your chin. He turns your head so you’re looking him in the eyes. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

“I’m not shy, I just. Don’t know how to react.” You try not to get flustered. You fail abysmally. He laughs, a soft sound that makes your heart flutter.

“We’ll work on that.” He promises. A dark, but by no means unpleasant, note to his voice. You smile softly at him. Jack leans back. You didn’t realize just how close he was until he moves away from you. You slowly lean back yourself. 

“I, uuhhh. I probably need to go. I’m sure I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do.” You clear your throat. Agent Whiskey nods. The dark note in his tone is echoed in his eyes.

“We’ll pick up again tomorrow, darlin’.”


	2. 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lesson #2: Confidence

“So.” You look up from the mountain of paperwork at your desk. Agent Vermouth is standing on the other side of the mahogany piece of furniture. He grins at you in a knowing way.

You had opted to come in early since you left much earlier than usual yesterday. Yes, it was for a good reason, but it still meant that you had a lot to catch up on in terms of work. You didn’t really trust too many other people to do your job. They didn’t know the specifics, not just of what the job required but what Champagne also wanted. 

You wait for him to say something. He doesn’t. He just grins at you.

“May I help you?” You finally ask. Your tone is cold, which makes him smile. He knew that you weren’t truly mad at him. The two of you had trained to be Statesmen together. For whatever reason, the two of you had been instantly drawn to one another and had become fast friends. Many people had assumed that the two of you were dating, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Vermouth was like an annoying younger brother to you. He sits on the end of your desk.

“I heard you got to have fun last night.” He fiddles with one of the knick-knacks at the end of your desk. You frown.

“You need to get better sources.” You sniff.

“You mean you didn’t go out with Agent Whiskey last night?” 

“It was strictly business. Give me that!” You snatch it away from him. He pouts, but the look is undermined by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think anything with you and Agent Whiskey can be strictly business.” He remarks idly. 

“What exactly are you implying?”

“I saw you at the bar with him! You were flirting with him.” He points at you in an accusatory manner. “Which, good on you for finally making a move. I’m tired of watching you act like you don’t find him hot.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. It was actually for business.”

Vermouth raises an eyebrow and scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It was! He’s training me for a mission.” You lean back in your chair and cross your arms over your chest. The chair creaks as you do so. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Better than annoy you? Never.” He laughs at your expression. “Look. I’m just saying. I’ve seen you make a lot of bad decisions, and he looks like your type of bad decision.”  
“At least my bad decisions are better than yours.” You fire back. Vermouth narrows his eyes. He leans forward. You lean forward in response, your jaw set.

“I don’t like your tone.”

“Good because I don’t like yours.” The two of you stare daggers at each other. Vermouth is the first to crack. It’s the smallest of twitches, but it makes you start to giggle. You hear someone clear their throat and turn to look. Agent Whiskey is leaning in the doorway, one eyebrow raised.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.” His words are cordial, but his tone is oddly icy. Vermouth stands up.

“Not at all. I was just giving her hell.” He grins at you and gives you the thumbs up before disappearing out of the office and down the hallway. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“He seems real friendly with you.” Agent Whiskey comments as he saunters in. You can hear the implication in his tone. He takes Vermouth’s spot on the edge of the desk, one foot planted on the floor for balance.

“God no.” You scoff. “He’s like any annoying younger brother.” You pause for a second. A thought has crossed your mind. You look at him and debate whether or not you want to follow the thought. You let a sly grin make its way onto your face and place your elbows on the table, leaning a little more forward than was strictly necessary. If Agent Whiskey wanted to, he could easily look down your shirt. His eyes flick down briefly, but he’s quick to focus on your face again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

He leans forward as well. He keeps his eyes locked onto yours. 

“Sweet thing, Vermouth has nothing for me to be jealous of.” The way he speaks implies a lot of salacious things. You can feel your cheeks starting to heat up. Whiskey laughs. You clear your throat.

“So, what’s today’s lesson?” You shuffle your papers around on your desk to keep your hands occupied. 

“Confidence.” You give him a confused look. He gives you a look from under the brim of his Stetson. “As cute as you are when you’re flustered, this ain’t going to work if you freeze up like a deer in the headlights every time.”

Well. He did have a point there. You make a face but nod in assent. 

“Alright. How do we fix that?” You let out a huff of laughter. “I have a feeling fake it until you make it isn’t going to work in this case.”

“You’d be correct.” He slides off your desk and stands up gracefully. You follow his lead and stand up yourself, smoothing out your pencil skirt. “Luckily for you, I have a plan.”

You make your way around the desk. He waits for you to be on his side before he begins walking down the hall. He keeps his stride even so you can easily keep up with him.

“I know this is cliche, but there’s some truth to the fact that an outfit can give you a lot of confidence.” He begins. “I can’t give you fashion advice. All I could tell you is what looks good and what doesn’t. Thankfully, we got people who can tell you all that.”

Much to your surprise when you started working your job, the Statesmen had what you liked to think of as a costuming department. It had a more official sounding name, but to you, that’s what it was. It was just like the costume department for a theater. You knew that certain missions required certain ways to dress, but you hadn’t thought much of it beyond that. It made sense, though. It was essentially a part of a disguise. You frown.

“Why are you taking me down that way now?” You question. The two of you stop at a bank of elevators. He leans one shoulder against the wall. “And why are you coming along?”

“Two reasons.” He holds up one finger. “First of all, you need to be comfortable wearing something swanky. This guy is rich, and he’s not going to give you a second glance if you don’t give off that rich person aura. I know they can get you the right outfit, but it ain’t gonna do you no good if you don’t feel comfortable in it. These women will run you over if you let them, so I’m going to help you figure out what you’re comfortable in and what you’re not. Two,” He holds up a second finger, “it’s the perfect chance to work on you learning to accept a compliment.”

The elevator dings. The two of you step inside. Whiskey presses one of the hidden buttons on the elevator panel. It chirps, and a retina scanner drops down from below the number display. He presses his face up against it. It chirps once more.

“Hello, Agent Whiskey.” The robotic voice greets him. The elevator begins moving smoothly downward.

“What, so I’m going to try on a bunch of really nice outfits, and you’re going to aggressively compliment me?” You lean against the back wall of the elevator. You can’t help your smile.

“Something like that.” He confirms.

The elevator stops at your destination. The two of you step out. An older lady is waiting for the two of you. She smiles at Agent Whiskey.

“Jack. It’s good to see you.” She pauses and then glares pointedly at the hat. “Not good to see that monstrosity.”

“It’s iconic, Genie.” He drawls in response. It sounds as if he’s had this argument with her before. Genie tuts. “Genie, this is my friend I was telling you about.” He introduces you to Genie. You don’t miss the way he positions himself, placing an arm around your shoulders and touching your bicep with his other. It’s like he’s presenting to you. Genie’s eyes do a quick sweep over you.

“You’re the honey trap?”

“I am.” You smile. She examines you. It’s oddly clinical yet super judgemental at the same time. She eventually sniffs. 

“Alright, follow me.” Whiskey lets go of you, and you follow Genie. She leads you through a maze of clothing racks. Agent Whiskey isn’t far behind. He occasionally takes a little hold of your elbow, as if he might get lost in all of the clothes. You try to keep your expression neutral. Eventually, the three of you end up on the other side of the maze to what looks like a dressing area. Several mirrors are scattered around the area, and two changing stalls are there as well. 

“Go.” She points towards the center of the room. You make your way over to it while she goes over to a table. She pulls out a soft tape measure. You take off the blazer that Champagne insists you wear and look for a place to put it. 

“I can take it.” Whiskey comes over and deftly plucks the garment from your hands. He searches for a coat rack to hang it on.

“Thanks.” You smile at him. Genie bustles over to you. She begins measuring you, giving you instructions on how she wants you to hold out your arms or stand and occasionally maneuvering you herself when you don’t move fast enough for your liking. You give Whiskey a look over the top of Genie’s head. He just looks amused as he watches her work. She asks you questions about yourself as she works, clearly trying to figure out what would work for you in terms of accessories. She eventually finishes and goes to flag down another coworker to help gather clothes for you. Before she can get too far, Whiskey stops her. You don’t hear what he tells her, but she nods in agreement before disappearing into the racks of clothing.

“What did you tell her?” You give him a quizzical look.

“I just told her what I thought would look really good on you is all.” 

“Why do I sense you only add the ‘really’ so you could make a claim about how I always look good?”

“ ‘Cause you do always look good.” You duck your head down. Even though you knew he was going to say something like that, you couldn’t help your reaction.

“Thank you.” Your murmur shyly.  
“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” You look back at him, your brows furrowing in confusion. He sticks his hands in his pockets and gives you a pointed look. “Everyday conversation? That’s cute. But if you’re trying to be seductive, that’s not gonna fly.”

“What should I do then?” You arch an eyebrow. “Compliment back?”

“Yes. That is exactly what you should do. Let’s run it again.” Whiskey adjusts his tie. “I think that you always look good.”

“Thank you.” You fiddle with a strand of your hair. “I think you always look nice too.” You pause. You bite your lower lip. “I really like your hat.”

“Do you now?” To your surprise, he looks genuinely pleased. He reaches up and adjusts it. “It’s a genuine Stetson. I don’t settle for knock-offs.”

“Don’t encourage him.” You nearly jump. You didn’t hear or see Genie come over to you. She’s loaded down with clothes. One of her coworkers trails behind her, arms filled as well. Genie goes over to an empty rack and begins hanging the clothes on it. She pauses to give you a disappointed look. “I’ve been trying to get that man to stop wearing it for years.”

“See, Genie. I think you’re a genius in a lot of ways, but that is the one place you’re wrong.”

“I actually do like it!” You protest. Whiskey makes a triumphant noise. Genie gives you a downright disgusted look. “What? I think it pulls the look together.”

“Thank you. She gets it.”

“It makes him look like he just walked out of a honky tonk bar.” She ushers you into one of the changing stalls. She hands you one of the outfits. It’s a cocktail dress. She closes the burlap curtain behind you with force, as if she wishes she could slam it closed. You begin taking off your clothes. “You. Shoo!”

“I don’t think so. I’m stayin’ here.” Whiskey sounds almost affronted. “I don’t trust you to not run over her like a semi-truck.”

“The lady might like privacy.” Genie’s tone holds an edge to it.

“It’s okay.” You call back. You would peak around the curtain, but you’ve just removed your shirt. “He’s helping me.”

“See? What the lady wants, she should get.”

You can’t see Genie, but you get the feeling that she’s fuming. You work on putting the dress on. Since it’s a cocktail dress, it requires some shimmying. It’s cute. It’s the right cut and length, and the color looks really good on you. You ignore the two of them talking in favor of looking at yourself in the mirror. You feel elegant and a little bit sexy. After several poses and looking at it from different angles, you poke your head around the curtain. Genie and Whiskey are engaged in a quiet conversation.

“Okay. I think I’m ready.” You try to not let your nervousness seep into your tone. Genie motions for you to come out. Hesitantly, you open the curtain and step out. Whiskey’s eyes darken, and he nods his approval. 

“It looks good. Makes you look sophisticated.”

“Thanks. I try.” Your tone is dry. Apparently sarcasm is your next go to when you’re flustered. Whiskey gives you a look. 

“I’m beginning to think you don’t want my help.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I do! I’m just-” You sigh and rub your face. “Can we try it again?”

After a moment, he nods.

“It makes you sophisticated.” He repeats. His tone is flirty this time but dry. It’s clear that he meant what he said earlier.

“Thank you.” You keep your tone light and airy. “I wasn’t sure about it, but since you like it, I think I do too.”

He nods after a moment. “Better. We can get there.”

“Are you two done?” Genie speaks up. “If you are, I’d like to get back to the matter at hand.”

You turn to face her, your cheeks heating up. Yes, this was for an exercise, but it still felt like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t have. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Genie goes over to the rack and pulls out another outfit for you. She hands it to you, and you go back into the dressing area. You make sure to shut the curtain all the way. It’s another dress. You guess that makes sense. This was a fancy event you were attending.

You repeat the exercise after every outfit. You step out, Whiskey gives you a compliment, you respond. 

It’s hard at first. You want to respond to the compliment in an authentic way, and you don’t want to put yourself down. You didn’t realize how many of your initial responses are insecure until you have to think about it. It becomes easier and easier to come up with responses to each compliment as you go. You even start throwing some back at him. You make sure to add eye contact as you go along and even add a bit of body language. The eye contact helps you feel more confident and in control of the situation.

The eye contact helps because it also lets you know which outfits Whiskey really likes. He gets this look on his face, one that you can’t describe, when he really likes a certain outfit. The look is intense and hungry and makes your stomach flutter in the best of ways. His voice dips and becomes slightly deeper as well. You find yourself responding more naturally to those, almost becoming more flirtatious. You think it’s just due to the practice, not the look in his eyes. No, you don’t respond to that at all.

Genie occasionally throws her two cents in. Some of it is negative and some of it is positive. You don’t miss the way that Whiskey ups his compliments after Genie is especially negative. It makes you smile. You figure it’s just him trying to keep your confidence levels up. Nothing more than that.

Eventually, you make it through the outfits. You have several you’re torn between wearing for the mission. All of them are ones Whiskey very clearly liked, but that was just a coincidence. You liked them too. They made you feel more confident and sexy. You needed that if you were going to be a successful honey trap. You take them to Genie once you’re through.

“I’m not sure which of these I like best.” You tell her. Genie takes them from you and places them on a different rack.

“I’ll go through them later.” She informs you. You can hear the dismissal in her tone.

“Thank you.” You say before going back over to Whiskey. You get the feeling Genie doesn’t get a lot of compliments. 

The two of you chat on the way back to your desk. It’s nice. You do feel more confident, your responses becoming more playful. You can tell he notices. On the elevator ride back, you notice something of your own. He keeps on sneaking glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. His gaze does linger on your lips, but you doubt that means anything.

The two of you start to slow down the closer you get to your desk. At a couple points, you’re almost tempted to stop. You’re not sure you’re quite ready to go back to work yet. Eventually, sadly, you get back to your desk..

“Hey.” You pause beside your desk. “Thank you. That actually really helped me.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. We still gotta get you through that mission.” He perches himself on the end of your desk again. “Besides, I feel like I should be thanking you. I don’t get to sit around and flirt with pretty women as often as I used to.”

“No, I’m serious.” You look him in the eyes, trying to convey what you can’t find the right words to say. “This was good. This helped me a lot, more than I thought it would.”

He seems to catch on to what you’re trying to say without using words. His expression softens some.

“You’re welcome.” He studies your face for a long moment. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Of course.”

“One day, I want you to tell me who did a number on your confidence.” He sounds completely serious. You shake your head.

“Whatever you’re planning, they’re not worth it.”

“I am offended you’d think so little of me.” He does genuinely sound offended, which makes you giggle. His expression softens again. “I wasn’t going to do anything other than have a little chat with them.”

“Yeah right.” You snort. “Somehow I doubt that.” You slowly make your way around to your side of the desk. Whiskey watches you. It’s not scrutinizing. You don’t know how exactly to describe it. You sit down on your chair. The work before you looks completely boring. 

“Vodka just came back from his mission yesterday.” Whiskey suddenly supplies. “Several of us are planning to go down to the bar tonight with him. You should join us.”

You lean back in your chair. You smile at him. “Are you going?”

“I might.” He shrugs, feign nonchalance.

You pretend to think your answer over for a minute.

“Yeah. I’ll join.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments on the last chapter! It really means a lot to me that you guys like this fic!


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